


The Weight of a Planet

by Flightless_Bird



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universes, First Kiss, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Endgame Spoilers, Post-Endgame, References to PTSD, References to anxiety, Some Fluff, The cloak is a literal puppy lol, Tony Stark Has A Heart, and needs a hug, battle on titan, both of them are sarcastic little shits, but a different endgame, flustered Stephen, might i add, protective cloak lol, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: “The building rush of anxiety crawled up into his throat and made him blurt out the first thing he thought of: “I can’t stop thinking about you.”Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. For a couple of seconds, he couldn’t speak. There was a glimpse of something unknown and raw in those blue eyes. Then in a millisecond, it was shuttered off. “Flattering,” he quipped. “You done?”





	The Weight of a Planet

**Author's Note:**

> So i started writing this BEFORE I saw...you know. So in my head, this is in another universe, because the multiverse is a thing, right? Right. Okay. Let my sons have love and happiness, dammit.  
> I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading! :)

Tony stepped into the New York Sanctum—just in time to see the ugliest monstrosity he'd ever seen try to lunge out of a sparking portal.

He didn't know what he'd thought he'd run into here, really, and he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.

In front of the roaring, slavering creature was none other than Doctor Wizard himself, using a gleaming, magical shield to force the thing backward through the portal. His stance was strong, focused, arms outward as he worked. Erm, well, until Tony walked through the front door and threw off the whole moment. Stephen tossed a surprised glance his way and it was enough for the creature to snag him with its claws. They ripped through dark blue fabric, throwing the scent of blood into the air, and he hissed in pain. The shield wavered.

Acting on instinct and a jolt of fear, Tony activated one of his bracers and fired. The beam of energy struck the creature square in the face, sending it rearing backward into the portal. Its shrieks were cut off as Stehpen promptly snapped the portal shut. The Sanctum dropped into a sudden, awkward silence.

Holding his side, Stephen shot Tony a pained glare. “Thanks,” he bit out, the amount of sarcasm truly staggering.

“You're welcome,” Tony chirped. He hoped the attitude masked the pit that had openedup in his stomach at seeing Stephen in danger like that. It was too close to the other time, with ash swirling up around them and Stephen’s voice, quiet—

A barely-choked off noise brought Tony jolting back and he saw the dark stain spreading around Stephen’s fingers. He started forward without thinking. “Hey, you gotta take care of that,” he said, one hand lifting as though to help somehow.

Stephen raised his free hand haltingly, wincing. “I'm okay. I just have to sit down and I can handle it.”

“Well, it's not gonna help to fall on your face on the way there, Doc.”

“I'm not going to ‘fall on my face.’” Stephen straightened up pointedly, took one step, and stumbled. Muttering something under his breath, he pressed his hand harder into the wound and bent near-double.

“Right, okay, great job,” Tony snapped, already striding to him. “C’mon.”

He slid an arm under Stephen’s shoulders to steady him and Stephen looked more alarmed than he'd been facing an interdimenionsal monster. “Wait,” he said quickly, and Tony paused, wondering if he'd caused any pain. Stephen’s voice was laced with confusion and mild discomfort. “What're you doing?”

 _Oh my god._ Rolling his eyes, Tony went back to dragging the arrogant sorcerer over to a chair. “Suck it up, I'm not gonna drop your mystical ass on the floor.”

“Your clothes—I'm bleeding, Stark.”

“It's a jacket, not a million-dollar suit, relax. Besides, if it was, I'd just make you magic up another one.”

“That’s not how it works,” Stephen mumbled, even as he was helped to limp across the floor over to a desk.

An unexpected flutter of affection made Tony bite back a smile. He didn't speak again as he pushed out the chair with a foot and helped Stephen into it. As Stephen sank back with a sigh, the edge of his cloak brushed over Tony’s arm, almost a _thank you_. Stephen took a moment to assess, then hovered one of his hands over the gash in his side. As Tony looked on in discreet awe, a soft glow emitted from the wound and the skin beneath began to stitch back together. Sharp blue eyes flicked up at his staring, and he cleared his throat.

“Would've been great if you'd pulled that stunt earlier, y’know, when I got stabbed,” Tony pointed out, wanting to brush off his gawking but feeling royally stupid at his reference choice.

But if Stephen was bothered, he didn't show it. He simply went back to his work, raising his eyebrows at Tony's words. “I wouldn't have to do this at all if you hadn't shown up so _conveniently_ ,” he returned.

Tony raised his arms in a _what the hell_? gesture. “Hey, if it weren't for me, you'd have just been eaten by Hulk Junior.”

“If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have lost my focus in the first place.”

“…fair point, _but_ ,” Tony added, as Stephen flashed him a triumphant look, “you were taking on that thing by yourself.”

Stephen sniffed and turned back to healing himself. The wound was nearly fully closed. “I didn’t need any help.”

“Bullshit.”

“It wasn't worth the risk of others.”

“Oh, so it was a _heroic_ choice then.”

“A _responsible_ choice.”

“Not what I saw.”

“Yeah, okay—” Finishing up and releasing the magic, Stephen straightened in his chair. “Why're you even here?” he demanded sternly. Some of the effect was lost when the cloak, happy at his healing, reached up to pet his cheek.

Tony’s mouth quirked in a half-smirk. “Missed your charming company,” he snarked.

Stephen closed his eyes as though praying for strength. The grouchy expression, paired with the cloak now attempting to fix his hair, was easily the most amusing thing Tony had seen in a while. Pushing up from the chair, Stephen brushed the cloak away, but with a gentle patience. “Okay, while this has been,” he began slowly, “nice, I have serious matters to attend to and I'm sure you have other people to grace with your presence today, so I’m going to have to cut this short.” Then, seeming to catch himself, he added, “unless you had something to ask me?”

Ah, well. Now this was the problem. Tony couldn’t very well lead with, _well, as you probably know, Titan was a gigantic flaming piece of shit and fucked up my PTSD like hell, so now I cannot stop thinking about it and everyone else, but mainly I can’t stop thinking about you, care to explain that Doc_? No, most definitely not. But he was standing here, fumbling like an idiot, for too long and Stephen was beginning to look truly concerned. The building rush of anxiety crawled up into his throat and made him blurt out the first thing he thought of: “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. For a couple of seconds, he couldn’t speak. There was a glimpse of something unknown and raw in those blue eyes. Then in a millisecond, it was shuttered off. “Flattering,” he quipped. “You done?”

 _Ugh_. Tony slid a hand over his face in exasperation. “Listen, as _mind-blowing_ as it is to watch Your Wizardry get all pissed off, I’m being serious.” He glanced away, hand coming up to fiddle with the outline of the Reactor under his shirt, nervous habit. “It's about Titan,” he admitted.

Stephen’s posture shifted, shoulders dropping. He took a deep breath. “What about Titan?” he asked, not unkindly.

“Uh, everything?” Tony raised a hand bitterly, as though to gesture at the _everything_. “I'm a mess, Doc, what else can I say? I've always been kinda shitty anyway—”

“You're not,” Stephen cut in softly, but Tony kept going without notice.

“—but now I'm all new kinds of shitty.”

Stephen just looked at him, and it felt like his gaze was going straight through to Tony’s thoughts. And maybe he was able to see more than it seemed, because the next thing he asked was, “have you been diagnosed with PTSD?”

Tony scoffed. “I invented PTSD.”

“I’m sorry,” Stephen murmured, and it was spoken with such emotion, it made Tony’s chest ache. He was struck then by how much he owed this man, who had watched them all die countless times and then found it in himself to save a last life—and that was Tony’s.

“Did you know?” he asked. He didn't have to explain.

Stephen closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“You saw all of it, didn't you?” Tony’s throat felt tight. “All the crap we went through and then some.”

“Yes.”

“Then _I'm_ sorry.”

Stephen blinked, lips parting. “You don't have to say that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tony exhaled, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “‘cause I'm complaining about a couple of nightmares and you lived all of them.”

“You did too.” Stephen’s hand started to lift, then fell into a loose fist at his side, as though he'd wanted to reach out to Tony. “You watched all of us die. You watched Peter die. And then you still went after Thanos, knowing what he was capable of.”

“Yeah, and you waited,” Tony pointed out. He shook his head. “You—waited for us, you had to rely on us to get you out again.” Then he added in an almost-ashamed mumble, “you had to rely on me.”

“You know—” Breaking off, Stephen reached up to rub his temple. “I know we may have…clashed, when we met. But I saw what kind of man you are, Tony. Millions of times, might I add. So I didn't mind relying on you to come back for us.”

Tony was silent, coming to terms with the fact that this—well, frankly fucking amazing _sorcerer_ saw so much in him. In _him_.

Sensing that perhaps he was getting through to him, Stephen spoke again, quieter. “You know, seeing half of the universe disappear into the Soul Stone _was_ hard. But it wasn’t the same as seeing the people killed at Thanos’ hands, the ones that couldn’t come back afterward. Those deaths were the hardest to watch.” He hesitated. “Yours was the hardest to watch.”

Tony snorted wryly to hide the way his breath hitched. “That’s not why you handed over the Stone when you did, is it?” he asked, deadpan, but with a trace of concern.

A half-smile tugged at Stephen’s mouth, and it occurred to Tony that he hadn’t seen him smile for so long. “Of course not. It was because we had a world to save and I knew you were the one who’d pull it off.” Then the good humor dropped and he glared at a place off to the left, as though he could still see Titan. “Though it was difficult for me not to try and destroy Thanos right there, when I saw what he did to you.”

“Flattering,” Tony mocked Stephen’s earlier words lightly. The way Stephen turned that glare on him was priceless—and they could use something other than this darkness, god knew. “Y’know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting with me, Strange,” he teased, cocking his head.

They shared a glance, Tony’s smirk drawing a hesitant smile out of Stephen: they would put Titan behind them.

Then Stephen rolled his eyes. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

Tony shrugged, feeling incredibly, giddily stupid. “Well, I am into the whole protective vibe you were givin’ off, I'll give you that.”

“Sure, Stark.”

“Thought you called me Tony now.”

A wonderful blush worked up Stephen’s neck, and how had Tony not noticed how beautiful he was like this? “I don't know what you're talking about,” Stephen hedged, almost guilty. He made as though to walk around Tony, probably to work on the destroyed bits of the sanctum—and Tony wasn't really sure what got into him.

Maybe it was the regret that had flashed over Stephen’s expression, maybe it was the way he was willing to shove it down, or maybe it was the weight of a planet strung between them.

Whatever it was, it spurred Tony to snag him by the collar and kiss Stephen Strange.

A little noise of surprise escaped between them, Stephen tensing up. It lasted a moment, just a moment, in which he started to sink into Tony and sent Tony’s mind spinning.

And then the cloak smacked him across the chest.

“Hey!” Tony reared back, glowering at the offending fabric. “What the hell was that?”

“Sorry, don't think he was expecting that,” Stephen managed. He was all sorts of pink now, a brand of flustered that Tony loved.

Sidling a step closer, he listened to the telltale catch in Stephen’s breath and reveled in it. “So I should warn you. Before I kiss you, I mean.”

“Ah—Yes?” Damn, he was adorable. And he was staring none-too-discreetly at Tony’s mouth.

“Then I'm gonna kiss you,” Tony murmured, curving a hand around the back of Stephen’s neck to pull him in.

It was soft, almost unexpectedly so. Stephen seemed content to simply lean into Tony, one of his hands coming up to rest on his side. It was like he wanted to steady him, remind him that this was real, this _safety_ was real. It made Tony’s chest ache. “Stephen,” he breathed into it, and Stephen shivered.

Now, it grew, it _sparked_. Tony’s fingers tangling in Stephen's hair, Stephen’s palm pressing into the small of his back to pull him closer. He slipped a free hand up the side of Tony’s neck, fingers sliding across the vulnerable skin, and Tony gasped. It was easily the most innocent touch compared to what he'd experienced before, but it was electric in its assurance. Stephen kissed like he wanted to take Tony from the rest of the world and keep him. _I'd let you_.

Stephen pulled away enough to skim his fingers along the line of Tony’s jaw. “I've wanted to do this since you followed me into space, when they took me,” he confessed in a whisper.

“Oh, please,” Tony scoffed, leaning their foreheads together. “I've been thinking about kissing you since you fucking winked at me before the fight in New York.”

“You weren't very forward about it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were an ass and I was proving a point.”

“Which was?”

“That I could kick ass better than you.”

Stephen laughed, a lovely warm sound, and leaned in to nuzzle at Tony’s hair. Mouth at his ear, voice melting. “Does that mean you were trying to impress me?”

Oh, Tony got it _bad_ for him. “I did, didn't I?” he countered, hooking a finger in Stephen’s collar.

“Yes,” Stephen admitted quietly, holding every moment in the syllable, from Tony breaking into the ship to save his life, to facing Thanos with a mangled suit and an abundance of attitude.

Tony smiled back at him, and for a moment, he could see into the future just as well as any Time Stone.

When Stephen leaned in to kiss him again, all he saw behind his eyelids were millions and millions more.


End file.
